Sir is Indisposed

In the early hours of this morning, we received a phone call direct from the Top. Yes I am talking about Sir's Place on the Hill. It seemed that incredibly Sir was not feeling his best, and although I knew this to be quite impossible as I happen to know for a fact that Sir is invincible (he told me) my Mum nevertheless seemed to take the phone call seriously enough.

In hushed and serious tones my mum discussed Sir's condition with Auntie Gabrielle and the outcome was - 1 Night Vet ordered out posthaste to the Place on the Hill, to Sir's side.

Well, I can inform you that Sir made a full recovery (in fact I am already inclined to believe I dreamed the whole thing - Sir indisposed?) but all this has given rise on my side to thoughtful meditations on my experiences of Sir both present and past; and on my Mum's, to wild enthusing on the level of organisation of petcare in Paris, our city of light, fine dining and night vets. Isn't that the mark of a civilised society, my mum crowed this morning, that a system exists where she can in the middle of the night call out a vet for a sick cat, who'll arrive at 2a.m., bag of medicaments in hand.In short should one need to order one's GP out at 4 in the morning requiring a little help with a troubling hairball, a heavy dose of ' flu or a bone gone down the wrong way, the place to live is Paris!

But where was I ? Oh yes - Sir. Well he's doing just fine, and I'm sure that the next time I cross his threshold, he will give me a smart whack just to let me know this. You see - sigh - not all cats are like my sister Phoebs as I discovered when when I first met Sir...

It was back in my Melbourne days. I had just about grown into my paws and was full of the joys, of life, love and the noble sport of catschasing. I was able to practise regularly courtesy of my big sister Phoebs, and how could a girl resist? Tee hee she's such a ' fraidy cat Phoebe, , scared of her own shadow, and everybody else's; a pin dropping causes her to leap three feet leap into the air her tail fluffed up like a raccoon's. So - when I heard that my Mum and I were going around to visit Auntie Gabrielle who lived nearby with three cats, I mentally rubbed my paws together in delight. Three. Thrice the sport!

Never was a pup more sadly mistaken. I was hardly in the door, when I came face to face with - Sir. I shall never forget that moment. Not only did Sir not run from me, but he stalked me, chased me, and confined me to the sofa with orders not to move from my Mum's lap for the rest of the evening, under pain of his extreme displeasure. While Auntie Gabrielle and my mum, chatted away and from time to time laughed - yes laughed - at my plight, Sir, and his two tough henchmen tought me the ground rules of his domain, which were basically to sit tight, shut up, and leave when required to. I tried to get down once or twice but each time I hazarded a little expedition to go hunting for crumbs, or perhaps even - sigh I was young - to try to reastablish the natural order of things, Sir was there with a thwack! and a ' what did I tell you?"

My Mum and Auntie Gabrielle will still laughingly hark back to this occasion with other friends, whereupon my Mum will turn my ears inside out - I have naturally coloured and why not admit it rather beautiful streaks of blonde on the underside of my ears and I am thus transformed into an instant blonde - while she reminisces on her story of " Goldilocks and the 3 Bears" - ha flipping ha mum.

Sir explained to me on that first occasion that he was omnipitent and I didn't have any real reason to doubt him however if I had needed any convincing, it came one morning sometime after the joyful occasion of my Auntie Gabrielle's arrival in Paris to live. We went to visit one evening to her little abode right at the top of a tower; true to form my Auntie Gabrielle had transformed this nest into a Princess's Bower, and I used to look forward to my visits there. But that day as I trotted confidentally through the door... yikes... him!! And his henchman Pumpkin. Oh goodness, they had got to Paris. They had crossed the world, managed to track down my Auntie Gabrielle, and move in! Auntie Gabrielle didn't seem too surprised strangely enough in fact she seemed positively pleased at their presence!

And so - sigh - these days visiting at Auntie Gabrielle's Montmartre Idyll, means peeping in warily to see what sort of mood Sir is in, and then taking up defensive positions accordingly - by the door as near to the Emergency Exit as possible, or perching myself gingerly on the sofa, ready to dive into my Mum's arms should the need arise. For continuing to socialise with the lovely Auntie Gabrielle, has to be on the terms of the cat who I have come to know as Sir.